


What Are You Afraid Of?

by 1pixie



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: College AU, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13257969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1pixie/pseuds/1pixie
Summary: yanan, the shy, hardworking physics major, didn’t open up to many. it wasn’t until he met a certain art major that he felt his sure world of laws and rules of gravity get tipped upside down.





	What Are You Afraid Of?

           The paints glided over the canvas easily as you stroked shapes into life, colors blending and twisting to form an image that was clear in your mind. You checked the time on your phone. 1 AM. Another late night in the studio, trying to finish up a project before the deadline. You rolled your shoulders back, cracking your upper back, which was pained due to hunching over the canvas for hours on end.

           Although it was painful, and the work seemingly never ending, you loved it. You thrived in these late studio nights, creating artwork that you poured your soul into. The feeling of staring at a finished piece of art you were confident in and happy with was indescribable. It wasn’t something everyone got to experience. You pitied those who never got to feel that.

           It was at this time that you suddenly remembered an art history assignment you had yet to finish, and you hurriedly cleaned your brushes and placed them to the side, grabbing your bag and running out the door to the library to check out a book you needed. You sprinted across campus, to the library, which was closing in an hour. When you finally reached the large, ornate doors, you took a moment to catch your breath before heading inside. The wood was smooth under your fingertips, and you noticed, as you always did when you went to the library, the intricate patterns and designs in the old wood. You pushed the doors open. Rushing through the lobby, over to grab the book you needed in the art history section, you then headed back to check out. A tired boy with dark honey hair was bent over what looked like a physics textbook at the checkout clerk’s desk. You gently placed your book on the desk.

           “Umm... I need to check this out.” You said quietly in the politest tone you could muster in your sleep deprived state of mind.

           The student’s head shot up at your voice, and he met your eyes. His eyes lingered on your face, which was no doubt red and blushed from running, and your hair in messy tangles from the wind. “Sorry.” The boy murmured about his previous inattentiveness, quickly breaking the eye contact and scanned your textbook and student ID card, smooth and efficient. _He must have worked here a while,_ you noted.

           You smiled thankfully as you slid your book into your bag. “Do you have an assignment due tomorrow, too?” you asked, pointing to his textbook.

           He looked down at it, as if he had forgotten what he had in front of him. “Oh,” he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Physics assignment.”

           You sighed in sympathy. “Good luck.” He opened his mouth to seemingly say something, but no sound came out. You began to walk to the ornate doors again, and turned before leaving wish him a good rest of his night. Then, you proceeded to sprint across campus again towards the art building.

           Reunited again with your piece in the studio, you spread your book open on the table next to you and finished typing up the rest of your assignment on your computer. It took all of your strength to resist your eyes from glazing over. Once finished, you stacked everything away again and decided that you had made enough progress tonight on your painting, and headed back to the dorm. You were asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

           -

           Yanan had seen just about every type of student on campus. He saw the pre-med students, the architecture students, the english students, the art students, the science students… He even saw the students who never went to the library and dropped out halfway through the semester. It was the night he was assigned the graveyard shift at the university library, and he was doing his physics assignment. Yanan was a physics major. He liked the certainty of the laws of physics. Nothing ever defied them. He liked rules, stability. He liked to know what was coming.

           He didn’t see you coming, jolting him from his studying reverie, with a quiet and sweet voice. Your cheeks had been flushed pink, and a dab of light blue paint was smeared across your cheekbone. No doubt you were an art student. Yanan had seen plenty of pretty girls walk through this library, but he had never seen someone quite like you. You looked as though you emitted carefree happiness, and a kind of freedom Yanan had never let himself feel. He was envious, but also slightly apprehensive. He had seen you once or twice before, maybe… Possibly laying in the courtyard, soaking up the sun? Showing up in sweats to the dining hall breakfast? He wasn’t sure, but he could sure as hell see you now. He hadn’t been sure if his voice would work when he opened his mouth to answer your simple questions. You had left him with a short farewell. “Have a nice night.” Hardly anyone was that animated to him when he was on the graveyard shift. Most left without speaking a word.

           He watched you, a bit amused, run across campus towards the direction of the art buildings. Maybe he should have told you there was paint on your cheek.

           -

           You came back to the library a few days later to return the art history book. You admired, as you always did before entering, the carving of the wood in the ornate door. You pushed it open then, walking over to the return drop box. You placed the book gently on top of the stack, and proceeded to walk over to the fiction section. You were mildly looking at titles and summaries on the back, when a familiar head of honey hair walked into your aisle, carrying a cart of books to be put away. He didn’t seem to notice you at first. He was lost in thought, looking at the code on the spine of the novel to know where its home was. His tall, slender frame allowed him to reach the highest shelf easily.

           You wondered if you should say hi. You had only spoken to him once, and it was at 1:30 in the morning. He might not have even remembered you. You looked back down at the book in your hands, and shrugged, wondering what the worst thing that could happen. You slid the book back into its place on the shelf, and wandered over to the clerk boy you had seen the other day. “Do you know the Dewey Decimal System by heart?”

           He jolted, almost dropping the book to the floor. His head turned in your direction, his cheeks already flamed up. You leaned against the shelf gently. “I uh…” he stuttered hopelessly. You thought it was cute, seeing him all flustered and shy.

           You saved him from answering, and instead said, “I saw you the other night on the graveyard shift. I’m Y/N.” You grinned, and held out your hand.

           He looked relieved to not have to answer the question about the Dewey Decimal System, and shook your hand. “I’m Yanan.” He smiled shyly.

           “Do you remember me? It’s alright if you don’t.” you asked.

           He faced the bookshelf again, placing the book in his hands back in its place. “No, I remember you. You were hard to forget.” The last sentence seemed to fall out of his mouth, and he looked as though he wished he hadn’t said it.

           You laughed behind your hand quietly. “I must’ve looked crazy. I must have made an impression on everyone who saw me that night.”

           He loosened up and chuckled softly, nodding. He bit his lip, looking as though he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was thinking. “You had blue paint smeared on your cheek.” He noted the memory with a bit of fondness.

           You groaned. “Dammit. I always forget to check for paint before I leave the studio.” You pulled away from the bookshelf. “Next time tell me if I have paint on me.”

           He turned his head towards you again, and with a tone of seriousness, he said, “You actually have some paint on your chin.”

           Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and hurriedly tried to wipe the paint off. Yanan laughed. “Kidding.”

           You rolled your eyes. “Nice one.”

           Yanan was quiet again, methodically shelving books. You decided not to distract him anymore. “Okay, well I’ll leave you to it. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.” You said hopefully. His shyness was somehow endearing, if not amusing, to you.

           “Yeah, maybe I’ll see you in the library again.” He said, matching the same hopeful tone. His honey blonde hair was tousled messily, but it still somehow made him look effortlessly good. A freckle just above his lip moved as he lifted his mouth in a smile. You matched his smile, and turned to move back down the shelf to the book you had put back.

           Well, the conversation had gone better than you thought it might. You didn’t make a complete fool out of yourself. You grabbed the book from before, glancing at its summary again. You decided to check it out, and headed towards the check out. You thought you felt Yanan’s eyes on your back as you walked away, but when you looked back he was still lost in shelving books.


End file.
